stepping
Monday, I stepped outside the back door and saw a hawk sail overhead, majestic wingspan, graceful landing on a pallet tipped on its side in the upper yard.
Tuesday, I stepped away from my desk at work and walked toward the front of the building – saw it was raining. When I left home that morning, it was sunny. I felt happy because of weather and the closed-in grayness of the rain.
Wednesday, meandering through a morning dream of following two champion racewalkers around the city, observing their style, rooting for the underdog with his long stride in black clothing, I stepped around a corner. There they were, the champion racewalkers, “taking a break!” and chatting amicably with each other in spite of their intense rivalry. I fumbled for my cell phone in the dream, to take a picture of this break in the race.
Wednesday, before leaving for work, I stepped outside to take a picture of the layers of color in clouds, stepping up to gray.
